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Lake didn’t love it, but he relented. “On one condition: someone stays by your side. I’ll do it.”
A sigh slid out of Knight. “We’ll take turns.”
West backed out quietly, and Lake settled in the armchair for the first shift, cocooned in Knight’s lingering soapy scent.
“How did you fall?” Lake asked.
A self-deprecating laugh left Harry. “I was reading a text and tripped over a pool chair. The phone survived.”
“Must’ve been some text.”
Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Martin. I might have asked how his date went, and he might have answered he wasn’t sure there’d be another one.”
Ah.
An uneasy shrug. “Never mind.” He shifted the ice pack. “I think I felt something for someone else tonight.”
“Felt something?”
“A spark.”
Lake leaned forward, clasping his fingers. “Go on.”
“I don’t really want to jinx it,” Harry said. “But I’m also worried because I wondered if you possibly liked him, and you met him first, so . . . but the way he came to my rescue! Be still my beating heart.”
And what a romantic rescue it was, minus all the sogginess and pain.
“You noticed the slight flirting between us?” Lake asked.
“Slight? It was kind of obvious.”
Lake hoped Knight didn’t think so. “No, there is nothing there. No feelings or sparks involved.”
“So you’d be . . . good? With me liking him?”
“Absolutely.”
Harry sighed. “I’ll never forget the feeling of his arms around me. All pain vanished, just like that. I was warm and safe and happy.”
“Very romantic.”
“Do you think there’s any chance he might like me back?”
Lake couldn’t say. More than that, he shouldn’t. “I messed up badly with Philip, so I won’t get involved with your love life again. In fact, don’t tell me anything else.” He didn’t want to be tempted to give advice. “Just . . . read his body-language carefully. Learn from my mistake.”
“Promise.”
Lake nodded and winked. “I’m rooting for your happy ever after, Harry.”
Much later, Knight came back downstairs. Lake tiptoed across the living room. They met under the archway and paused, Knight in his underwear and a crinkled T-shirt.
“He just fell asleep,” Lake croaked. “He seems okay, but . . .”
“I’ll watch out, in case.”
“Thanks. Knightly?” The unspoken, taut throbbing between them needed unleashing. God, did it ever. But Harry might stir, and they were both exhausted. This wasn’t the time. His lungs deflated. “Good night.”
Knight inclined his head, and murmured, “Sweet dreams.”
His dreams were sweet indeed.
He and Knight were tangled in bed, laughing, taking turns pinning each other down. Lake stretched over Knight, sinking into his gloriously slick, tight—
He woke up, urgently working himself to a gasping release. Spent, he soaked in the late morning funneling through the gaps between the curtains. He and Knight had to talk.
He showered and made his way downstairs, excited and anxious in a might-throw-up kind of way.
From the dining table, Knight cast him an apologetic look. Harry was smiling and coherent despite the massive bulge on his forehead; Taylor sat with Amy on his lap, kissing the freckles on her arm; Cameron was hacking at a laptop, pen behind his ear; West was helping himself to what looked like the last of the brewed coffee; Josh was sifting through must-read books Lake had stacked on the rustic buffet table.
Lake hid a sigh. He liked—even loved—this lot. But did they have to show up this morning?
He only had until four before his evening shift at the food bank.
“We’ve been roped into strawberry picking,” Knight explained.
“Roped?” Taylor exclaimed. “You used to make me do this every year.”
“Not with a crowd. And not without warning.”
“More the merrier,” Taylor said. “Besides, you had nothing better to do today.”
Knight’s grimace and fleeting glance toward Lake bubbled up hope in him. He quelled a chuckle. “Strawberries. Sounds delicious. I’m in.”
“Let’s carpool,” Cameron said, shutting his laptop.
They split into two groups, and Lake followed Harry and Cameron to Knight’s car.
Lake aimed for his usual passenger seat, but Knight insisted Harry take the front.
His head.
Right.
Cameron and Lake slid into the back, where Cameron grinned at him. “‘Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?’”
Lake smiled weakly and—after twenty minutes of quotes—tuned him out in favor of Knight and Harry’s conversation.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you,” Harry was saying. “You’ve a beautiful house.”
Lake dreamily agreed. He loved everything about the Dixon’s house too. The cozy farmhouse interior, the care that went into keeping it clean and neat, the beautiful garden filled with blossoming flowers . . . and aloe vera . . .
His gaze shot to Knight in the rearview mirror. For two beats their gazes held, until Knight returned to driving and Lake looked away, subtly adjusting himself.
At the strawberry fields, they split off into smaller groups of two and three, wandering the rows. Never far from each other.
It took an hour before Harry migrated toward Josh and West, leaving Lake and Knight alone. Not alone enough to talk. But alone enough that Lake started shivering.
